


Harry Potter Drabbles

by midnightdiddle (gooseberry)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brothers, Bullying, Death and Afterlife, Dementors, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Marriage, Pregnancy, families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-25
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/midnightdiddle
Summary: A number of drabbles:1.Follow, or In Which There Is a Brother Complex the Size of Texas--Charlie Weasley and his hero worship of his older brother, Bill.2.Butterfly--AU in which a seventeen-year-old Draco is given the Kiss.3.Barefoot--In which Narcissa is literally barefoot and pregnant. It's all possessive Lucius introspection.4.Absolom--There is a ghost in Malfoy Manor, and Draco grows up thinking the ghost is perfect.5.James Dreams--James dreams of Lily, of Remus and Sirius, of his parents. Most of all, though, he dreams of Harry, and how Harry will grow up.6.Knew Better--Five times Remus wishes he'd stopped James and Sirius's latest prank (and one time he wishes it'd been a prank).





	1. Follow, or In Which There Is a Brother Complex the Size of Texas

Charlie always followed his brother. It was just the way things were. From the time he took his first steps - _and what shaky steps, small and unsure!_ \- he was following Bill. He followed Bill when he was a baby, clutching to chairs and tables to keep himself upright. He shuffled after Bill, step by step, holding onto Bill's sleeve whenever he could. He followed Bill on broomsticks, racing around the Burrow again and again. He followed Bill when the older boy tried to go play with friends. When Bill would knock him down he'd sniffle, rub his eyes, and grab Bill's sleeve, following Bill.

Charlie despaired when Bill left and went to school. For two years, he sat at home, lost and alone, not sure what to do with himself. When Bill would come home from Hogwarts for the summer, Charlie would latch upon him, never letting his brother out of his sight. When he could finally follow Bill to school, he'd never been happier. He followed Bill through Gryffindor, through potion classes and meals in the Great Hall. He followed Bill through pranks and tricks and lessons and tests, all the way up until the end of school. Bill left, went far down south, to Egypt, and Charlie was lost again. He threw himself into his life, trying to follow Bill in any way he could, confused and discontent.

So when Bill's hand on the charmed family clock spun about madly before landing on Deceased, it was only natural Charlie would follow him one last time.

And Charlie did.


	2. Butterfly

Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, and he's waiting to be Kissed.

The war ended months ago, and when the Dark Lord fell, Draco waited, silent and resigned, for the Aurors to grab him, to snap his wand and shackle his arms, and to drag him before the Wizengot. He never said a word when he was tried - _seven counts of Unforgivables_ \- and convicted - _Dementor's Kiss_.

Now he's sitting in a hard-back chair, his back stiff and straight, his face frozen somewhere between crying and laughing. His shackled hands are lying in his lap, fingertips twisted together in a bad mocking of calm. A door opens behind him and his eyes shut tightly. He can hear his mother screaming, and his father yelling, and curses and hexes and shouts, all jumbled together in his head and in his memory, and oh _god_ , the dementor's close enough to touch him now. The scaly hands reach out to him, slime and scabs and grey skin, cold as ice, and when the long, boney fingers touch his chin, soft as any lover's touch, Draco's heart nearly stops and his eyes fly open.

The dementor's hood has been pushed back, and the _face_ \-- oh god, what a face, pale and twisted and warped and wrong, so very wrong - is lowering closer and closer, and for a moment, Draco remembers.

He used to kiss Pansy, down by the Quidditch shed. She would always giggle and blush and try to hold his hand, and he would laugh and shake her off him, only to turn around and kiss her again. She had been soft and curves and colors that seemed to suck him to her, and she had still sucked him to her, when she was cold and dead and lying on the Manor's floor, eyes staring up at the ceiling, mouth forming a silent, broken 'o' of surprise. Pansy had kissed him, and he had kissed her, and now he's going to be Kissed, and he doesn't want, doesn't know, doesn't doesn't doesn't--

The touch of the dementor's mouth on his nearly kills Draco. It's freezing, ice to the touch, and he wants nothing more than to stop breathing, because it hurts, deep in his head and his heart, and there's no point, because there's no light anymore. Everything's dark, cold, pointless, and he's sad in a way he's never been sad before. He wants to cry, but somehow, he's too sad for that, just like he's too sad for everything, for even _living_ , and the dementor Kisses him,

and

there

is

 _nothing_ \--

 

Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, and he has been Kissed.

He's beautiful, resplendant, in his cell. He's like a doll, with pale, yellow hair - _he takes after the both of you, Narcissa_ \- that shines under the lights, nearly white. His eyes - _such pretty blue eyes, Lucius, just like his mother's!_ \- are like glass, blank and empty. He's gorgeous, delicate and fragile, and entirely gone.

A ministry official takes Draco's thin, slender hands and tugs on them, none-too-gently. Draco rises from the chair, graceful in the way dolls are, and he follows when he's led from the room and down the hall. Each step is quieter and quieter, and his body seems to become lighter and lighter, and Draco's gone, he's not there, but he's not anywhere. He's like a butterfly, pinned to a piece of cardboard, 

and

his

wings

won't

 _fly_ \--


	3. Barefoot

Narcissa walks about the manor barefoot. Her robes, always of colors that compliment her best, drag on the floor, and her hair hangs down her back, loose. Her arms are bare, and they're pale, unblemished. Lucius watches her glide from room to room, head held high, eyes focused on something Lucius can't see, and Lucius feels as though she's a manifestation of something bigger than them all. He's reminded of an old tale, about Merlin and Arthur, and a woman in a lake, clad in a gown of silk. Narcissa holds his heart, his soul, his entire being, in her small, slender hands.

She pauses in the middle of a room, and when she looks at him, a small, thoughtful smile is on her face. He kneels next to her and bows his head to the ground, and kisses her small feet. She laughs, and he wonders if she's making him into a poet, because he thinks of peals of bells, silver and bright and clear, so very clear. He rises up into a crouch, and wraps his arms around her waist. She used to be thin, slender as a dryad or a nymph, but now her stomach's round, full of _him_. She's his, all of her, from her head to her toes, her and the baby. But God is Lucius happy right now.

He kisses her stomach again and again, and while he's kissing her, through the robes, the baby kicks. He laughs, and he loves the difference between him and Narcissa. She's light and airy and delicate, and he could break her with a word or a gesture. He's low and dark and deep, strong enough that no one can break him, except, inexplicably, her. Somehow, she can break him, and he wonders if she knows this.

"The baby's been kicking all day," Narcissa says, fitting her hands around his. He kisses her stomach once more, then straightens, dressing himself in his hauteur.

"My son," he says pridefully. Her thoughtful smile widens and she lets go of his hands.

"Ours, Lucius." She's the perfect lady again, and he watches as she sweeps out of the room, smiling to herself. He walks to the window and watches her as she descends the steps outside, for fear she might fall, and watches her cross into the gardens, barefoot.

 _His_ Narcissa. His lovely, perfect, barefoot Narcissa. But _God_ does he love her.


	4. Absolom

**[.hands]**

There's ghost in Malfoy Manor. It's a young boy in wizarding robes. His hair is pale and curls at the tips, framing his eyes. He's perfect, from his insubstantial fingertips to his bare feet. If you look at him closely, you can see blood at the corner of his mouth.

**[.feet]**

The first time Draco can remember seeing the ghost, he's three. The ghost floats on the edge of his bed, miming sitting, and Draco holds out his hand, the perfect gentleman in miniature. The ghost kicks his bare feet and reaches out to touch Draco's hand. It slides straight through and Draco feels cold, colder than he can ever remember feeling cold.

"Who are you?" he asks, curiouser and curiouser, and the ghost smiles, blood on his lips.

**[.eyes]**

The ghost, Draco eventually learns, is Absolom. He's bigger than Draco, but as Draco grows, Absolom lessens.

One day, Draco tells his mother about Absolom. He tells her that there's a boy, who looks like him, and that the boy follows him around the Manor. Narcissa slaps him across the mouth and when Draco looks at her, there are tears in her eyes.

**[.mouth]**

Sometimes, Absolom talks to him. His voice is whispery, like reeds, and surpisingly hollow. When he talks, Draco talks back.

On those nights when they talk, Absolom floating a half-inch above the bed, Draco sitting in the blankets, Draco feels like he has a friend.

**[.hair]**

One day, Draco asks Absolom how he died. Absolom smiles at him and brushes short fingers through his curls. 

Draco never asks again.

**[.heart]**

When Draco leaves for Hogwarts, he says goodbye to Absolom. Absolom watches from the window, nearly invisible in the sunlight, and Draco watches him as the carriage carries him from his home. Time flashes by, a train ride and losing a friend that was never really a friend, but then, Draco's never had any friends but Absolom. And then they're in the Great Hall, and there are ghosts everywhere, floating and flying and falling, and Draco's in shock.

He can't tell Absolom, he decides. He won't ever tell the boy that pretends to sit on his bed, and sometimes tries to grab Draco's hand. He won't tell Absolom that the boy isn't special, isn't _unique_. He won't say that there are other ghosts, just like him, because Draco wants Absolom to be special, because Absolom is _his_ friend, or is it 'his _friend_?'

And right now, as the Bloody Baron is scowling down on him, Draco feels like he loves his older brother.


	5. James Dreams

James dreams.

He dreams of Lily, of Remus and Sirius, of his parents. Most of all, though, he dreams of Harry.

Harry’s nearly three, and he spends most of his time following James around the house, crying to be picked up. Lily’s sick in bed, with coughs and sniffles and a throat too sore to speak, and James isn’t quite sure what to do. He loves Harry, always has and always will, but he’s a little overwhelmed, and Harry just keeps crying to be picked up. James picks Harry up, throws the boy in the air, and Harry’s cries become laughs. Harry has green eyes, green green green, like Lilly’s eyes, and James loves Harry the most for his eyes. James tucks Harry under his arm and Harry squeals, kicking his feet as James takes him upstairs to see Lily. James thinks this is what love is.

Harry’s five, and he runs through Lily’s garden, barefoot, while Lily cares for the flowers. Harry’s skinny for his age, knobby knees and sun-browned skin, and he has a loose tooth. He plays with the tooth with his tongue, pushing it around and around and around as he runs, and James tells Lily that Harry’s going to choke on his tooth and die. Lily just smiles, dusts off her gardening gloves, and watches their son. James thinks this is what love is.

Harry’s eight now, and when he screams for something he wants, things break. First it was glasses set on the kitchen table. Harry wanted a cookie, and he screamed, and they shattered. Now he’s screaming again, and Lily’s snow globe, set on the bookshelf in the front room, shatters, water and enchanted snow flying everywhere. James cuffs Harry atop the head and Harry stops screaming for a moment, and while Harry’s staring at James, and James is staring back, Lily gives Harry a sweet. James tells Lily she’s too gentle with Harry, that Harry will grow up to be a brat, but Lily just gives James a sweet, too. James thinks this is what love is.

Harry’s eleven, and he’s waving through the train’s window. Lily’s waving back, and James wraps an arm around her waist as he waves as well. Harry’s face is pressed up against the glass, and his nose is beginning to mark the glass, but it’s not their window, so James can’t find it in himself to care. He waves and waves and waves, and when the train begins to move towards Hogwarts, he picks up Lily and spins her around, laughing. Harry’s growing up, Harry’s growing up. James thinks this is what love is.

Harry’s sixteen and angry. He yells at James, screams at Lily, breaks things and swears and stomps up the stairs. He’d just screamed that he hated them, hated them both, wished they were dead. Now Lily’s holding James’s arms, pleading with him to understand, but James wants to hit that boy. Harry doesn’t understand how much Lily loves him, how much James loves him, and he just wants to make that boy see. Lily says don’t, says please understand, and James grabs Lily, holds her tight. Harry makes him so mad sometimes, makes him want to hex something. Hours later, when he and Lily are reading the paper together, there’re footsteps on the stairs. Harry says he loves them, and Lily gets up to make dinner. James thinks this is what love is.

Harry’s twenty-three. He’s married to one of his classmates, and he’s finally settled down. James thinks it’s because of the baby in Harry’s arm, a baby with black hair and squinty eyes, a red face. The baby’s beautiful, like Harry was beautiful when he was born, and James feels pride burst through his chest. They’ve done it, Lily and him. Harry’s a good man, a good father. Harry’s wonderful, and James isn’t quite sure how Harry got to be so good, when he and Lily messed up so many times, but they’ve finished it. Harry’s grown-up, Harry doesn’t need them anymore. Harry has his own family, his own life. Harry hands the baby to Lily, and Lily smiles at James. James thinks this is what love is.

James Potter dreams as he floats in Cocytus. He’s alone, floating in water that buoys him up, and his body feels curiously cold and numb. He’s dead, he knows he’s dead, and he misses Harry, and he misses Lily. He won’t see Harry grow up, won’t ever see Harry lose a tooth, or go to Hogwarts, or get married. He won’t see a lot of things, and so he dreams them in his head as he floats in the river. Alone, alone, alone. He hates to be alone.

_James._

A whisper and a voice and a hand slips into his, fingers curling around his fingers. Soft, small. Lily’s hands, Lily Lily Lily.

Harry’s going to be alone. Harry will live all alone. He’ll lose a tooth alone, go to Hogwarts alone, get married alone. But Harry’s going to grow up, grow old. Harry will do anything he wants, be anything he wants, because Lily loved him, and because James loved him.

And this, this is what love is.


	6. Knew Better

1\. "Lost the only picture of me Mum, too," Hagrid said sadly, and Remus patted his hand as gently as he could.

2\. After the prank with the Whomping Willow, Snape stops talking to Remus, or even looking at him. James and Sirius are properly repentant, and Peter has the vague, clueless look that means he had no idea, so there's not really anyone Remus can get mad at, or even a reason to get mad. But still, Remus is mad. He's furious. Every time he has five minutes to himself, he thinks up long, brutal speeches to throw in James and Sirius's faces. Thinks up cruel little things to do, to turn fleas loose in Sirius's bed and to tell Lily what James really does on the weekends.

Mostly, though, Remus hurts. He remembers when he was a first year, before all his classmates became third years, before they learned how to be so cruel. He remembers when, sometimes, he used to talk to Snape. When they used to partner up for flying lessons, and when Remus would share dried toad eyes with Snape. Now, Snape won't look at him, won't walk down the same hallway, twenty feet away.

Prank by prank, and Remus feels like his world is shrinking.

3\. When Filch's jaw quivered, like the old man was about to cry, only couldn't remember how, Remus wished he knew how to turn back time.

4\. The prank is all Sirius's idea, but Remus figures out what's going on pretty quickly. He doesn't do anything, though, because he's got a directed study with Professor Purgledon this term and the full moon is coming up. He's too tired, too busy, and it's time James fought his own fights.

Two weeks later, though, Lily looks at Sirius with bright eyes, her lips parted and her face flushed, and Sirius is looking at her the same; James is looking like he's going to fall down, and Remus can feel his heart stagger to a painful halt.

"It didn't mean anything," Sirius says the next night when they're brushing their teeth. Remus doesn't say anything, but his heart still doesn't feel like it's beating.

5\. "He could have _died_ ," Lily is yelling, and James looks more shamefaced than he has since the Whomping Willow. 

"I didn't think," James says, and Lily slaps him hard. James's face is white, and her handprint stands out across his cheek and jaw.

"I'm sorry," Remus interrupts, because they've only been married for a few months, they shouldn't be fighting like this. "I should've--"

"You," Lily says, "are even worse. You knew better, and you didn't stop them."

"You," she says, and her words stay with him for a long time, like the taste of vomit in the back of his throat when he had seen the way Peter's head had lolled, like a broken doll, "are the worst one."

 

_And one Remus wishes had been a prank. . ._

When James and Lily die, Remus tries to think it's a prank at first. A big, stupid prank; something James and Sirius never should've come up with, but did anyways. Something that, like always, would make everyone worry. Because if it's a prank, that means James and Lily and Peter are still alive, Harry is still living in the magicing world, and Sirius is still loyal, still a friend.

If it's a prank, something to pull over Voldemort, then that means that there's still someone there on the other side of the Floo, waiting to call him home. It means Remus still has ~~a family~~ friends.


End file.
